


A Flat Stone

by clgfanfic



Series: Alias Smith and Jones/War of the Worlds [1]
Category: Alias Smith and Jones, War of the Worlds (TV), Wildside
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:29:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul tells Debi about his ancestors...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Flat Stone

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Just You, Me and the Governor #4 and then later in Green Floating Weirdness #22 under the pen name Lynn Gill.

_"Hawks are messengers from the Grandfathers…"_

 

**Colorado** **, 1884**

 

          "Heyes?"

          "Yeah, Kid?"

          "Can I ask you somethin'?"

          The dark-haired ex-outlaw squinted at his partner, trying to read the man's expression before answering the request.  "I suppose it won't matter what I say, will it?"

          Curry grinned.  "Nope."

          "Then go on and ask."

          The blond paused a moment, shifting in his saddle, looking for a more comfortable seat but failing to find one.  "We're goin' to California, right?"

          "Yep."

          "And we're gonna to buy us a little ranch outside of Wildside, right?"[1]

          "Yep."  Heyes watched a flight of birds rise out of a stand of nearby trees and wondered if it was a deer or a wolf that had frightened them.  The thought of fresh deer meat made his stomach growl.  "You know," he said before Curry could go on, "now that we have our amnesty the world looks a whole lot . . . clearer.  You notice that?"

          The Kid snorted.  "That's just because we aren't riding by it at a full gallop with a posse or a bounty hunter close on our tails."

          Heyes chuckled.  "You've gotta learn to relax now.  We're free men.  We can go anywhere, do anything… well, except rob banks and trains, of course," he grinned.

          "Heyes?"

          "Yeah?"

          "When we get to this little ranch outside of Wildside–"

          "Bannister said he already has the paperwork waiting for us in that last telegraph."

          "Good, that's good, but when we get there, we're gonna raise horses, right?"

          Heyes nodded enthusiastically.  "And not those half-wild mustangs the Army uses.  Nosiree.  We're gonna call in some old favors and get us  a blooded colt and filly, and then we're goin' to start breeding.  There's money to be made, Kid.  And then we'll invest that money in real estate and—"

          "Didn't Brodie say he'd be willing to sell us a couple brood mares from his stock?"

          "He did."  Heyes grinned like a young boy.  "Who knows, maybe we'll open up a small saloon, too.  Just a little something to help pass the time."

          It was Curry's turn to chuckle.  "You're starting to sound like an upstandin' citizen, Heyes.  Next thing you're gonna tell me is you're plannin' to run for sheriff."

          "Won't need to."

          "Oh?"

          "Bannister also said that the Chamber of Commerce of Wildside has thought it over, and they've decided that it's about time the town has a full-time sheriff…  They're savin' that job for you."

          "Me?" the Kid demanded, his voice breaking.

          Heyes smiled broadly.  "And it couldn't happen to a better man.  Oh, and Governor Summerhayes wants to talk to us about doing some work with the Chamber of Commerce, or maybe on our own, once we get settled in.  Seems as though Brodie and the boys are getting a mite too popular."

Both men chuckled.  That was easy to believe, given the unique personalities of the various members of the Chamber of Commerce of Wildside.

          "Okay," the Kid said, "so let me get this straight, we're buying a horse ranch so you can make money to invest in real estate, but you're gonna run a saloon, too, and I'm gonna be sheriff…"

          "That's about the size of it," Heyes said, the satisfaction in his voice tangible.

          "Fine.  But I still have a question for you."

          "What's that?"

          "Why are we headed east, when Wildside's…"  Curry craned around in the saddle and pointed back the way they'd come.  "…that way – West."

          "Well, Kid, that's because: if I'm finally going to settle down, there's a couple things I wanna do first," Heyes explained.

          "Oh?  Like what?"

          "I want to see my folk's old farm, for one… thought we could stop by your old place after that."

          Curry grew somber and watched his partner out of the corner of his eyes.  "What else?"

          "After we put some flowers on a few graves, we're going East."

          "East?  But I thought you said—"

          "And we will, Kid.  But before I settle down, I want to stand on the other side of the Mississippi River.  I know that might sound a mite funny to you, having been to Philadelphia and all, but—"

          "It don't sound funny, Heyes," the blond replied, shaking his head.

          "It doesn't?"

          "No," the Kid assured.  "I understand."

          Heyes regarded his cousin and best friend for a long moment, then nodded.  He did understand.  "Good.  I figure we'll go to St. Louis, then maybe take us a riverboat down to New Orleans."

          "Sounds a little rich for our pockets."

          "Kid, what do they have on riverboats?"

          Curry thought for a moment, then smiled.  "Gamblers!"

          "And what am I?"

          "About the best darn poker player this side of the Mississippi!"

          Heyes grinned back.  "Well, I think it's about time to see if that holds for **on** the Mississippi, too."

          "You know, I think I'm gonna like this amnesty."

          Heyes nodded.  "Me, too, Kid.  Me too."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**The Blackwood Project**

**Government Property #348**

**Northern California**

**September 1989**

 

          Debi McCullough paced anxiously in her bedroom, vainly searching her thoughts for a topic she could use for her first high school essay.  She had already used all the stories the colonel had told her during her last year of junior high, and she didn't want to borrow any of them again.  So she needed something new for this assignment.  And the teacher had made it clear that no late assignments would be accepted, so she needed a topic – fast.  She really didn't want to start out on the wrong foot.  But she just couldn't think of anything.

She sighed.  Maybe if the colonel wasn't busy…

          She picked up her notebook and a pen, then took a deep breath.  Even after fourteen months at the Cottage with her mother and the other members of the government's top-secret Blackwood Project, she was still a little afraid about intruding on their security specialist's time.  But he was always so nice to her…

          _Okay, just go ask_ , she told herself, then marched out of her room before she could change her mind.

          She found Lieutenant Colonel Paul Ironhorse in his office, where he was most afternoons, getting caught up with the endless river of paperwork that passed over his desk.

She knocked once, very softly, and almost decided to sprint away, but the, "Come in, Debi," from the other side of the door held her there.

          Opening the door, she shifted nervously.  "Hi."

          "What can I do for you?" the officer asked.

          "Are you busy?  I can come back later if you are.  I don't want to—"

          "No, actually, this is my last report," he said, motioning to the single piece of paper in the middle of an otherwise immaculate desk.  "All I have to do is sign…"  He applied the ball-point with a concise flourish.  "…And I'm done.  There."  He lay the pen aside.  "So, what did you want to see me about, young lady?  Aren't you supposed to be doing your homework?"

          Debi gave the handsome soldier a long-suffering look.  "You sound just like my mom."

          Ironhorse hid the grin the comment sparked and tried to look serious.  "Oh?"

          "It's my homework I wanted to ask you about."

          "Oh?" he asked again.

          "I have an essay due for my history class, and I wanted to do something on Indians, but I've already used all the stories you've told me, and I was wondering… could you tell me another story?  Something historical?"

          The Special Forces officer stood.  "Hmm, let's see, I already told you about the Trail of Tears, and how Sequoia developed the Cherokee alphabet, and—"

          "I was wondering…" Debi interrupted, then faltered.

          "Yes?"

          "Do you remember the first story you told me, when we first moved here, about your great-great-grandfather?"

          Ironhorse nodded.  "The one about the flat stone with the drawings on it."

          Debi nodded.  "Well, you didn't _really_ tell us what happened.  I mean, you said he was fired because he said that other beings were here before the Indians.  But then you said that he didn't really get fired.  What _did_ happen to your great-great-grandfather, Colonel?"

          Ironhorse nodded, his expression thoughtful.  "Well, that's a piece of history, Debi.  And now that you know about the aliens, why don't I meet you in the living room in ten minutes and I'll tell you the whole story.  I want to get some coffee first."

          "Awesome!  Thank you, Colonel!"

          "You're welcome, Debi."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**New Orleans** **, 1884**

 

          "Heyes, you're amazing!"

          "I am, aren't I."  The ex-outlaw leaned back against the headboard of the their shared hotel room bed and gazed fondly at the bag of gold coins he had managed to acquire on their trip.  Gambling in St. Louis had been profitable, and the small stake they had started with had grown rapidly.  They spent half of it to get to New Orleans, where Heyes not only replaced their stake, but tripled it.  "I guess we ought to put this in the bank," he finally said.

          The partners looked at each other, then giggled like school boys.

          "Well, _we_ aren't robbin' banks anymore, so I guess it's safe," the Kid agreed. "By the way, who was that black man you were playing with today?"

          Heyes looked up from the heavy bag.  "Isaiah McAdams.  He's good, Kid.  Real good."[2]

          "But you're better, Heyes.  After what I saw, you're the best damned poker player on either side of the Mississippi, _and_ on top of it!"

          "Maybe… maybe not.  But I do know one thing."

          "What's that?"

          "I don't need to know if McAdams is a better player than I am.  This is our stake, and I'm not going to risk it.  With this we can go to California and buy our horses.  I was thinking, the Barkleys and the Lancers both owe us a favor; I think it's time we collected – in horseflesh.  This is gonna work, Kid.  I can feel it."

          Curry nodded his agreement.  "So, what now?"

          "I want to fill out the pot, then we'll take the train to Abilene and a stage west from there."

          "A stage?  Heyes, with all that money we could take a train the all the way to San Francisco."

          He looked up, meeting his partner's blue eyes.  "I want an even twenty thousand dollars to start out on, Kid.  Abilene's as far as we can go."

          Curry paused a moment, then grinned.  "That's a nice number, Heyes."

          "I thought you might like it."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Debi slid into one of the wingback chairs and waited for the colonel to get settled on his Indian blanket.  The man often carried it in to sit on when he was in a storytelling mood.  She smiled to herself.  Sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace on his blanket, an eagle feather in his hand, Ironhorse was a modern shaman, passing along the history of his people as had been done for thousands of years.

She watched him center and focus on the story before he looked up at her.

          "As I told you, my great-great-grandfather was a shaman, and he had a flat stone with strange markings on it—"

          "Of the man with the bowl on his head, right?"

          Ironhorse nodded.  "Yes, Debi."

          "And the man in the picture had a magic wand, too, that shot out lightning bolts."

          "That's right.  My great-great-grandfather, whose name would be translated as Thunder Eagle, went out into the desert to seek a vision that would tell him what the picture meant."

          "And he had a vision," the thirteen-year-old recalled.

          "Yes.  He returned after thirty days and told the tribe that, in his vision, he saw that other people, people from beyond the stars, had walked the Earth before the People."

          "Were they the same aliens that you and mom and Harrison and Norton are fighting?"

          Ironhorse stared at the eagle feather in his hand as he replied softly, "I don't know, Debi, but I think so."

          "What happened then, for real?"

          "After my great-great-grandfather told the tribe this, he went on.  He said that, in his visions, a hawk had come to him and told him that he must seek out the source of the flat stone."

          "A hawk?"

          "Hawks are believed to be messengers from the Great Spirit."

          "Oh.  Where did he have to go?" she asked.

          "In the visions, the hawk always flew toward the south, so Thunder Eagle knew he must travel in that direction.  The hawk also showed my great-great-grandfather a very large tree, but it was as hard as stone.  He knew that he had to find that tree somewhere south of where he lived."

          "But how would he know where to look?" Debi asked, her note-taking already forgotten.

          "He wasn't sure either, but in the vision he saw two horses, one light and one dark, so he thought that meant he'd find two companions who would help him on his journey.  He was sure they would be white men."

          "There were a lot of white men in the West by then?"

          "Yes, there were," the colonel said.  "But these men were special.  The Grandfathers were sending them to help Thunder Eagle.  He knew if he headed south, he would find them."

          "Did he?"

          "Yes, Debi.  He did."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**New Mexico** **Territory** **, 1884**

 

          Tucumcari was a small, unfriendly town, and the Kid was looking forward to leaving as soon as possible.

"Hey, Heyes, what do you think about that?" he asked, nodding toward a growing crowd.

          Together the two men watched as several drunk and half-drunk white men continued to harass an Indian.  Heyes' eyes narrowed.  The man didn't look like the Indians from this part of the country, his build more slender and his face more sharply angular.  However, it was the man's calmness that held his attention.

"It isn't our problem," he said softly, although he knew they were going to get involved.

          "Nope," Curry agreed.

          Heyes sighed, then followed the Kid as he stalked toward the group.

The whites had formed a ring around the Indian, taunting him, then moving from verbal threats to pushing the man from one cowboy to the next.  It struck both ex-outlaws strange that the Indian offered no resistance – he looked like he could take on the whole bunch and stand a reasonable chance of winning.

          "Now, fellas, that ain't no way to be neighborly," Curry said, trying to lighten the mood.

          "What d' you care?" one of the drunker members of the crowd asked.  "You an Injun lover?"

          "Look, why don't we all go over to the saloon?" Heyes asked.  "My friend and I are just passing through, and we'd be happy to buy everyone a round.  What do you say?"

          "I say you better get the hell outta here, mister," another man growled.  He was considerable more sober than the first.

"Yeah, mind your own business!" someone else called.

          "Now, listen," Curry growled, his voice turning cold, "we're not lookin' for trouble, and neither is he.  So just let the man leave and we'll do the same."

          "What's he to you?" a dirty-blond asked, hitching his gunbelt up on his hips.  "You know this red-skin?  You some kind of squaw-man?"

          Heyes saw his partner bristle.

"I'm only goin' to say this once more – let the man go.  Now."

          The group, with the exception of the dirty-blond, read the threat in the Kid's stance and eyes and moved away from the Indian.  Heyes nodded to the man and he walked over to join the two ex-outlaws.

          "I don't take to no strangers comin' in here and tellin' me what I can and can't do," the blond growled.  "You're just askin' for trouble."

          Curry's gun flashed into his hand, aimed at the drunk's chest before the cowboy even realized he'd started for his own Colt.

          "Don't make a mistake you can't walk away from, friend," the Kid said.

          "That's right," came a voice from behind them.  "You're all damned lucky I don't put you in jail 'til ya simmer down."

Heyes turned to find the sheriff stalking toward them.

          The partners had dropped by his office earlier to let him know that they were in town, but that they were just waiting for a stage to Gallup.

          "You boys don't know it, but you're lookin' at death's doorstep.  Gentlemen, Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry will be leaving town later today, so I suggest you say your good-byes now and get on home before I lock y'all up for disturbin' the peace and public drunkenness."

          Several pairs of eyes grew wide and the men quickly shuffled off after mumbling apologizes to the partners.

          "Thank you, Sheriff," Heyes said.

          "Don't thank me," the lawman told them, "just get on that stage and get out of here before there's more trouble.  And take that damned Indian with you."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "You mean Thunder Eagle was rescued by outlaws?  Like Billy the Kid?"

          The colonel's smile tilted to the right.  "Well, not exactly, Debi.  Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry were two of the most successful outlaws to survive in the West, but they never killed anyone; they robbed banks and trains.  The Governor of Wyoming, I think it was, offered them an amnesty if they could show that they could lead law-abiding lives."

          "So they quit stealing and settled down?"

          "No, their deal was secret, so no one but the Governor, a sheriff they knew, and Heyes and Curry knew about it.  And after four years of dodging posses and bounty hunters, the Governor finally gave them the pardon.

"Some historians say the Governor did it as a favor to the cattlemen.  You see, the railroad men had raised the price of transporting cattle, and that made the cattlemen mad.  Since the railroad owners didn't care much for Heyes and Curry, the ranchers were naturally pulling for them.  Besides, the outlaws had never bothered the ranchers, so they pressured the Governor to give the men their amnesties, or lose the ranchers' support in the next election.  The railroad men had already publicly backed another candidate who was more sympathetic to their needs, so the Governor went along to get even."

          "So they had their amnesty when they met Thunder Eagle?"

          "Yes.  They had been traveling and gambling.  Hannibal Heyes was a very good poker player, and Kid Curry was perhaps the fastest gunman of his time."

          "Faster than you?"

          Ironhorse laughed.  "Yes, Debi, much faster than I am.  I use an automatic, but Kid Curry only had a Colt revolver.  It took a tremendous amount of skill to be fast and accurate with one of those."

          "Why were they in New Mexico?"

"Back then it was New Mexico Territory," he explained.  "And they were headed to California when they met my great-great-grandfather.  They were going to buy some land there and settle down."

          "What happened after the Sheriff told them to leave?"

          "Well, they didn't know what to do, and they didn't want to make the sheriff angry at them, so they asked my great-great-grandfather where he was going."

          "And he told them about the stone and the vision?"

          "No, not yet.  He just pointed west.  They bought him a ticket and he accompanied them to Gallup."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Gallup** **, 1884**

 

          "Kid, we have a slight problem."

          "Besides the chief here?" Curry asked, nodding over his shoulder at the Indian, who was following them down the dusty street.  For the entire trip across the New Mexico territory, the man had ridden with them, but had yet to utter a single word.  The Kid had finally decided the man was mute.

          "I am a shaman, not a chief."

          The two ex-outlaws turned in unison to stare at the man.

"He _does_ talk," Heyes said, his lips lifting into a smile.

          "Do you understand?" Thunder Eagle asked them, his tone sounding like he were speaking to a pair of small boys.

          Curry nodded.  "Though I don't rightly know what a sha-man is."

          Thunder Eagle nodded and explained.  He had watched the two men carefully, making sure they were the ones promised by his dream messenger.  He had finally decided that they were the ones the Grandfathers had promised would help him fulfill his vision quest.

          "Guess that makes you like a priest or a pastor," Curry said.

          Thunder Eagle nodded.  It was good enough.

          "Now that you're talking, maybe you'd like to tell us where you're going?" Heyes asked.

          "West."

          "Well, that's narrows it down a little, I suppose," Heyes replied.  "Any particular place?"

          "Where the stone trees grow."

          "Stone trees?" the Kid asked.

The Indian nodded.

"I never heard of a town by that name."

          Thunder Eagle shrugged.

          "Well, good luck.  We hope you find it," Heyes said, turning to face his partner.  "Looks like we're back to horses for the trip to Wildside."

          "Horseback?  Now wait a minute, Heyes.  We swore when we got the amnesty that we weren't takin' no more long trips on the back of a horse."

          "I know, Kid, but with buying the ticket for our friend here, we're a little short for stage fare."

          Curry groaned.

          "We will go west," Thunder Eagle announced.

          "Look, ah, whatever your name is, we're—" Heyes started.

          "I am Thunder Eagle, but you can call me Luke.  You will come with me to the place of the stone trees."

          "Now, just a minute—" Curry began, only to be interrupted as well.

          "It was told in my vision.  You will help me find the Old Ones, the people from beyond the stars."

          Heyes and Curry exchanged puzzled glances, but the blond could see the look in Heyes' eyes.  Whenever the man caught wind of a mystery he couldn't let go, and Thunder Eagle was turning out to be exactly the kind of puzzle Heyes liked best – one that didn't have any posses, lawmen, or bounty hunters connected to it.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Heyes and Curry weren't too excited about following what they thought was a crazy Indian, but Heyes was curious to find out what all the talk of visions and stone trees was about.  And after the Kid worked on him a little while, they bought stage tickets for as far as their cash would take them, which was somewhere in the Arizona territory."

          "What did they do when they got there?" Debi asked.

"Heyes won enough money playing cards that they were able to buy three horses for the rest of their trip.  And while Heyes and Curry played cards in the saloon, my great-great-grandfather went out to the Indian settlements and showed the stone to some of the elders and shaman there.  They didn't recognize the flat stone, but they had seen drawings on rocks formations that looked similar."

          "So where did they go next?" Debi asked, too caught up in the tale to notice that her mother had joined them, taking a seat on the couch and curling up on one end to listen.  Suzanne McCullough enjoyed listening to the colonel's stories as much as her daughter; it helped take her mind off the covert war they were fighting against the alien invaders trying to take over their planet.

          "Well, Thunder Eagle spent one day praying for guidance, and the next morning, while they were readying their horses, he saw three coyotes running south."

          "So they followed them?"

          Suzanne smiled at her daughter's total engrossment, then moved her feet so Harrison Blackwood could join her on the couch.  The astrophysicist cocked his head slightly as Ironhorse answered.

          "No, they went north.  You see, Debi, Coyote is a trickster, so Thunder Eagle knew they were trying to fool him into following them the wrong way.  He knew better, though."

          "So they went to the Grand Canyon?  That's in the northern part of Arizona, right?  We learned about it in my geography class."

          "Almost.  They went to the Navajo reservation, to the Hubbell trading post.  Once he heard about the trading post from Heyes and Curry, my great-great-grandfather knew that he would find someone there who could tell him where the stone trees were."

          "Stone trees?" Harrison whispered to Suzanne.

The microbiologist shrugged her shoulders and gestured to him to be quiet and listen.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Northern Arizona Territory, 1884**

 

          The man at the trading post was anything but helpful, explaining that he had more than enough of his own Indians to worry about, and that Heyes and Curry ought to take theirs and go back to wherever they had come from.  Thunder Eagle, however, found exactly what he was looking for – several old Navajo men who were willing to talk about drawings that looked like the ones on the flat stone the shaman carried.

          While Thunder Eagle got directions, Heyes and Curry looked over the goods in the trading post, picking out a few items as gifts for the friends they were looking forward to meeting once they solved the medicine man's mystery.  Over the weeks that they had traveled together, the two ex-outlaws had developed a deep respect and admiration for the shaman.  Heyes, in particular, found Luke's company enlightening, and he spent a great deal of time talking to the man about things Curry wouldn't have guessed his partner knew a wit about.

Thunder Eagle reciprocated, finally opening up and explaining why he was there.  He also showed them the drawing of the man with a bucket over his head and a stick that had lightning bolts coming out of it.  Heyes explained that there were white men called archaeologists who did similar things, but the shaman only smiled indulgently and nodded, telling them that few white man would understand the threat his vision had revealed about the Old Ones from beyond the stars.

The partners let the comment pass without comment.

In the end, the ex-outlaws decided that Luke was a good-hearted man, even if he was a little crazy, worrying about an old picture someone had drawn on a rock. The partners also decided to make the trip their final adventure before taking up the reins of a normal life.  After all, Heyes argued, it was a mystery, and he really hated to leave a good mystery unsolved.

          The partners were packing their purchases in their saddlebags when Thunder Eagle rejoined then.

"I have spoken with a man who says that the stone trees are only a few days ride south of here."

          "Is it a town?" Curry asked.

          "No, it is a place where the trees have been turned to stone."  Thunder Eagle turned and began preparing his horse.

          "I don't like the sound of that," the Kid mumbled.

          Heyes shrugged.  "I don't know, Kid, sounds kind of interesting."

          "Interesting I don't need, Heyes."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Where are the stone trees, Colonel?" Debi asked.

          "It's what we call the Petrified Forest, a national park."

          "Cool!  Maybe we can go there someday?"  Debi looked over at her mother and Suzanne nodded.

          "Well, Heyes and Curry decided to go along," Paul continued.  "They thought they were going out of curiosity, but my great-great-grandfather knew that it was the desire of the Great Spirit that had decided they would go."

          "How did they find the right spot?" Norton Drake asked.  He had joined the others earlier, rolling in on the story in his voice-activated wheelchair only to get caught up in the tale along with the rest.

          "Thunder Eagle waited until they reached the edge of the Painted Desert, then he took some of the corn pollen, which the shaman he had spoken to had told him was sacred to the local spirits, and went off alone for a day to chant prayers and make offerings.  When he came back the next day, he knew where to go."

          "And Heyes and the Kid went with him?" Debi asked.

          "They had waited in the camp and when Thunder Eagle returned they all rode together to the land of stone trees."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

## Arizona Territory

 

          "Heyes, this place gives me a case of the—"

          "Don't say it, Kid.  I know _exactly_ what you mean."

          The two ex-outlaws rode behind Luke in silence, hoping the Indian knew where he was going.  Huge tree trunks littered the ground and when they stopped to inspect them, both men were amazed to discover that they were, indeed, stone. It was eerie, and the rising wind of an approaching summer storm did nothing to make them feel any better.

          Thunder Eagle continued, following some inner sense that directed him until a soft humming noise reached them on the breeze.  The shaman stopped, waiting for Heyes and Curry to join him.

          "What's that noise?" the Kid asked.

          "I don't know," Heyes admitted, twisting around on his saddle, trying to hear it better.

          "It is the Old Ones," Luke said.

          "The men with buckets on their heads?" Heyes asked him.

          Luke nodded.  "We must see them."

          "Why?" the Kid asked, disliking the mystery more and more.  His own gut was telling him that the Old Ones, whoever they were, were dangerous.

          "It is what the vision told me."

          "I think it's coming from that direction," Heyes said, nodding to the west.  A light rain began to fall, flashes of lightning starting up along the horizon.  "We'd better hurry, too.  This storm could cut loose anytime, and I don't want us to get caught out in the middle of it."

Thunder Eagle nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse took a sip of his coffee.

          "Colonel, don't stop there!" Debi nearly wailed.

          "Yeah, come on, Paul, what happened next?" Harrison added, leaning forward.

          The soldier smiled and set his cup down.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The humming grew louder, becoming clear over the wind and rain that whipped around the three men, quickly soaking them as the driving edge of the summer storm reached them.  The thunder and lightning moved closer, and Heyes knew that they would be forced to take cover soon, or risk being killed by a bolt of the brilliant white light.

          Topping a small rise, they stopped behind a particularly large stone tree trunk, frozen by what they saw.  Below, three figures in bulky suits and what looked like buckets or bowls over their heads moved around a shiny disk.  The bowls had a single eye hole, and the strange humming sounds seemed to be coming from the figures themselves.

          Dismounting, Heyes and Curry joined Luke, the three men crouching behind the large log, watching.  It didn't take long to figure out that the Old Ones, or whoever they were, were trying to get inside the large, flattened metal ball, but a considerable portion of it was damaged, crushed like it had fallen from a great height, or had hit something, very hard.

          Heyes looked around, trying to figure out how the thing might have been damaged, but there were no cliffs or mountains nearby.  The trees might be stone, but even they couldn't have smashed the object unless it was going very, very fast.

          Curry's touched his partner's shoulder, nodding at one of the three figures who had stopped work and was scanning the ridge line.

          "Now how did he know we were here?" Heyes whispered.

          "They are from beyond the stars; who knows what men from there can do," the shaman said.

          The other two figures joined the first, one removing a stick like the one drawn on the stone Luke carried from his belt.

          "Heyes, I don't like the looks of that."

          "Me either, Kid, I—"  Heyes didn't have a chance to complete the thought as what looked like a small bolt of lightning shot from the end of the stick, colliding with the end of the large trunk about ten feet away.  Sparks flew in all directions and part of the stone tree shattered into a heap of rubble.

          "Hey!" Heyes yelled.  "We don't mean any harm!  We're lost, and—"

          A second blast struck much closer, the heat forcing the three men to scurry for cover further along the ridge.

          Curry had his Colt out and he managed to fire off a single shot, catching the figure with the lightning stick in the shoulder before diving for cover next to Heyes.

          "What the hell?" the dark-haired man said, watching the figure fall to the ground, the bulky suit slowly falling flat onto the ground.  "I swear that man – that _thing_ – just melted away like a snowman in July!"  And then he remembered, he had seen the same thing once before, when he and the Kid had met a couple of strangers near Devil's Hole.[3]  But that time it had been a rancher who had seemingly melted away.  The same odd feeling he'd felt those many years ago returned and he shivered.

          Curry rolled along the ground, coming up for a look at the one he'd hit.  The other two figures were moving to cover behind the metal object.  The Kid fired another shot, the bullet ricocheting off the shiny surface of the metal disk.

          "We can't let those two get that stick thing," Heyes said.  He didn't know why, but he did know it was dangerous.

          "Don't you think I—?  Where's Luke?"

          Heyes twisted around, but the shaman was gone.  "Damn!"

          "What are those things?" Curry asked.  "And that–?"

          "I don't know, Kid.  It reminds me of that time we met that Indian and that scientist from back East."

          "When I was shot?"

          "Yeah.  Remind me, I'll tell you about it sometime."

          "Heyes, look," Curry said, nodding to the desert below them.  Luke was moving slowly toward the damaged disk and the two hidden men.  "What's he doin'?"

          "Trying to get himself killed," the dark-haired man replied.

          The afternoon sky darkened further as the partners scrambled from their position and made their way down the slope.  Lightning flashed closer, the answering thunder swallowing the Kid's shouted warning.

Heyes frowned, wondering what it was his cousin had said just before he stepped into an unseen fissure and fell.

Curry reached him a few moments later, yelling over the rising wind, "You okay?"

          "I think so!"

          Grabbing his partner's arm, the blond wrestled him out of the crack.

          "Kid!"  Heyes lunged forward off of his knees, knocking Curry off his feet.  Another bolt from a lightning stick flashed over their heads, the air suddenly acrid.

          "Where'd they get that?"

          "From inside that thing!"

          A war cry rose above the howl of the wind, spurring the two ex-outlaws into a broken sprint toward the disk.  Luke emerged from behind the shiny metal object holding one of the unusual weapons.  The knife in his other hand dripped an odd-colored green liquid.

          Passing by the shaman, Heyes glanced down at the man the Kid had shot, noting that whoever, or whatever had been inside the suit, had indeed melted, green ooze leaking from the folds of the suit.

Their guns drawn, the partners joined the shaman on the far side of the disk where they found a second man melted away inside his suit.

          "What the hell's going on?" Curry yelled.

          "I wish I knew, Kid, but we'd better find that last one!"

          They moved off, following Luke.  A streak of lightning flashed across the landscape, reflecting off the bowl-like hat the third man, or whatever it was, wore over his head.

          "There!" Curry said, pointing.

          They separated, moving to surround the third.  It didn't take them long to accomplish the task, although the increasing intensity of the storm had Heyes worried for a while that he would somehow manage to slip past them.  At least this one appeared to be unarmed, and Heyes wanted to see who the man was.

          "Hold it, mister!" he heard the Kid yell, and moved in quickly to join his partner and Luke.

          "Now that we've got him, what do we do with him, Heyes?" Curry asked.

          "Take off that hat," Heyes ordered.

The man started to comply, then stopped, his arms falling back to his sides.

          "You heard him," Curry growled in his best no-nonsense tone.  "Take it off."

          Reaching up a second time, the man pressed a series of small buttons Heyes hadn't seen before, then lifted the bowl off of his head.

          "What the devil—?"

          "What _are_ you?" Heyes asked the being.

          The creature regarded the three men with its single eye.  Luke leveled the lightning stick at the thing, saying, "It is one of the Old Ones, a man from beyond the stars.  He is one of the people who walked this earth before my people came here."

          A burst of unintelligible sounds issued from the thing, and Heyes and Curry both took a step backward.

Curry yelled a warning as the creature raised its hand toward its chest, touching the center.  It exploded.  The three men turned away, covering their faces with their arms.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Wow," Debi breathed.  "So they actually saw the aliens."

          Ironhorse nodded.  "After we organized the Blackwood Project and Harrison gave me Dr. Forrester's papers to read, I realized that the aliens my great-great-grandfather met that day with Heyes and Curry were the same ones we're facing now, but I had no idea the old stories were as accurate as they are."

          "What happened to the warship and the alien weapons?" Blackwood asked from the couch.

          The colonel shrugged.  "I don't know.  They went back to the trading post and my great-great-grandfather spoke to some of the local holy men.  I think the Navajo must have taken them somewhere."

          "And what happened to Thunder Eagle?" Debi asked.

          "Heyes and Curry took him to California, to a place called Wildside.  After they were rested from the trip and the battle, they paid for Thunder Eagle's train fare back to his reservation."

          "And the aliens?" Norton asked.

          "They were gone… for the time being," Ironhorse said.  "When my great-great-grandfather returned to his people, he told them the story, but I don't think they ever really believed him.  But it still became something that was passed down from generation to generation in my family.  My grandfather told it to me many years ago."

          "I wish I could've met them all," Debi said wistfully.  "Thunder Eagle sounds a lot like you, Colonel."

          "Perhaps," the soldier replied, the ghost of a smile lifting the corners of his lips.

          "And Heyes and Curry, I'll bet they were cute," the teen continued.

Suzanne smiled.

          "I wouldn't know about that, Debi," Paul said.  "But I wouldn't have minded meeting them myself.  They sound like good men.  Men who didn't look at the color of another man's skin to judge him."

          "Did they get their ranch?" Harrison asked.

          "Yes.  And Kid Curry became the sheriff of Wildside, and Hannibal Heyes ran a local saloon when he wasn't buying up land in the local area, or running for city government.  They also did a number of favors for Governor Summerhayes while he was in office."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

## Wildside, California, 1885

 

          Curry leaned on the white-washed fence and watched the three brood mares loping across the pasture.  They were beautiful animals, blooded, and very expensive.  Heyes walked out to join him.

          "They sure are something, aren't they, Heyes?"

          "That they are."

          "How's the colt?"

          "Frisky," the dark-haired man said with a chuckle.  "Too many good-looking ladies around."

          Curry nodded.  "You know, I think this is really going to work after all."

          Heyes rested his hand on the blond's shoulder and squeezed.  "Yeah, I know what you mean.  A friendly town, some good friends, a nice piece of land, and four beautiful horses… the townsfolk even took to you as sheriff, and the saloon's doing a great business.  We couldn't ask for much more."

          The Kid elbowed his partner lightly in the ribs.  "Except maybe a couple of good-lookin' ladies for us."

          Heyes laughed.  "You have a point, Kid, you do have a point.  Guess we'll have to start working on that."

          The Kid grinned.  "A Hannibal Heyes plan?"

          Heyes grinned back.  "Not yet, but I'll get to work on it, see what I can come up with."

          "Well, when you do, let me know.  I'm feelin' a mite frisky myself."

 

  


* * *

[1]  Wildside is the fictional community seen in the short-lived series _Wildside_.  The five main characters made up the "Chamber of Commerce of Wildside" and took on "jobs" (beating the bad guys) for Governor Summerheyes, an old friend of theirs.

[2]  Isaiah McAdams is one of the characters from the TV series _Outlaws_ , where the five major characters, outlaws, were transported from 1880s to 1980s Texas on a bolt of lightning.  They buy a ranch, The Double Eagle, and start a detective business.

[3]  A reference to "Members of the Gang," which was published in _Green Floating Weirdness #23_.


End file.
